What They Tell
by kfriend013
Summary: "You know when someone tells you a story that's so beautiful, and you try and remember every word, but no matter what it never sounds as good as the person?"


What They Tell

"Ooo, ooo, wait! This guy!" Sidney screeched from the passenger seat, pointing vigorously at an old man in a blue Honda Civic. His back was hunched over, old age contorting his features. A twinge of sadness in his eyes. Sitting in a beat up puke-colored green Bug, Sidney had begged her sister to go for a ride together. She had agreed, as long as she could drive.

"Hell no, he's too old to be considered. Death's basically sitting shotgun." Tory made a face, wrinkles bunching around her nose. She turned to the car on her left, a green and silver Mini Cooper. "Now, look at her. She's definitely worth it. The face, the body, hell, I bet she even has a great personality; the entire freaking package." She rolled her eyes and flashed a middle finger at a black truck that swerved in front of her. "Didn't even have the decency to turn on his damn blinkers!" She yelled, before smacking her hand back on the steering wheel horn. Sidney jumped.

"Come on, anyone can have a story. Just cause he's old, doesn't mean he hasn't got a good story," Sidney argued.

"I bet he does. He could do sky diving for a living, or hang gliding. Maybe he joined the circus? Except the circus is more like American Horror Story than those boring shows, like a freak show." Tory's nose crinkled again, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"No way, I bet he fought in the war. Hmm... Vietnam or World War I? Wait, when did they even happen? I can't remember at all. Does that count as interesting, or PTSD?" Tory turned her head to keep an eye on the black truck. She rolled her eyes when Sidney wasn't looking, and tapped her fingers against the wheel, feeling the dry smoothness under her calloused fingers.

"Okay, what about that guy?" Tory nodded in the direction of the young man sitting in a Toyota with a concave dent in the fender, and a little boy in the backseat. The little boy was wearing a pair of overalls with smiley faces for buttons.

"What a hunk, but I feel like he's an asshole," Tory said, frowning in his direction.

"If you think so, what's his status?" Sidney argued.

"Hmm... Let me see, cheater, asshole, douchebag, player, home wrecker, one night stand. Pick one, or all of the above. I mean, look at him. That baby, I bet you, is from a one nighter."

"You know, just because Justin was a cheater doesn't mean every guy is, or for that matter, will be." Tory scoffed and made another face at her sister.

"Doesn't mean you can trust 'em, either. Can you open that bag of chips?" Sidney reached around the back of her seat, fingers wiggling.

"Got it." The bag was crinkling music to Tory's ears. The blaring sounds of the highway filled her ear with a more raspy and growling music. She eyed a blue Volkswagen warily.

"Wait, take a look at this dude..." Sidney whistled and jerked her head at a white Audi with long eyelashes. "What a guy." Taking a quick peek, Tory took note of the guy's muscled arms, his youthful face, a little bit of stubble growing in, his short hair (Tory loved short hair on guys). There was a dog sitting in the passenger seat, a Shetland Sheepdog if she was guessing correctly.

"Let me guess... Sexy police officer on his day off... Going to meet his girlfriend." Tory stole another glance and matched his speed.

"He can arrest me any day." She snuck a wink at Tory. "But, even better, male stripper that dresses as a cop, on the way to see his girlfriend who's also a stripper." Sidney made the face at Tory that said "one-up that".

"What the hell. There is no way that his girlfriend is a stripper. His girlfriend is in the hospital, he's bringing the dog for therapy, today is his off day. And he's driving her car. No guy would have something as tacky as eyelashes on his car." Tory eased her foot on the gas pedal a little more, they were neck and neck with the cute guy.

"What if he doesn't have a girlfriend? Or he has two, a double life, he's a con man!" Sidney's voice rose with the plot of the man's story.

"He has a hidden talent of walking while doing a handstand, and he went to clown school." Tory joined in.

"He has a fetish for ankles or fish." Tory laughed, her foot easing on the gas with her movements.

"This is great. Why did we start this?" Sidney turned her face to Tory.

"Hmm..." Tory tapped her thumbs against the wheel, and switched into the middle lane. "I guess... I started it. Before dad left, and before you were born, he used to create stories out of nothing, pulling stringed words from the air."

Sidney was silent, waiting patiently. Tory pulled the car into Exit 23.

"Well..." Tory began. Arry turned down the beats of the music to listen to her choppy words.

"You know when someone tells you a story that's so beautiful, and you try and remember every word, but no matter what it never sounds as good as the person? You were too young to understand it when dad left. But, I guess... These stories are all... Attempts. Or wishes for something I'm positive won't ever come true." Tory shook her head, as answering a silent question.

Sidney watched a blue truck pull by them as Tory checked to make sure she was clear to merge.

"Look, it's okay that you don't remember dad. Maybe it's even for the best. He was a bit of a jerk anyway." Tory had to break the silence.

"It's okay, Tory. I can't hate someone I never knew."


End file.
